


Standard Wednesday Night

by mia6363



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Dating, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia6363/pseuds/mia6363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, not to be a whiner,” Foggy spoke through a mouthful of fried rice, “but it’s so not fair that you’re better at chopsticks than me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standard Wednesday Night

Matt was getting his blood all over Foggy’s favorite quilt and Karen handed Foggy a hair tie. He gave her a quick smile before quickly tying his hair up, not caring how dumb it made him look. Matt’s mask was on the floor and he was high on the small stash of morphine Foggy kept for this kind of situation—the kind where he had to do a shot so his hands didn’t shake as he sewed up his best friend. 

All in all, it was a pretty standard Wednesday night.

“You know, I’m starting to forget what normal nights were like, Matt.” Matt, the vigilante _asshole_ giggled, his nose scrunching up in a way that was stupid-adorable. It made Foggy want to kiss him. Or punch him. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Batman. I remember! Online solitaire, falling asleep while eating ice cream… those were the _days_.” 

Of course Foggy doesn’t mean it. Matt knows. Matt knows everything. He flushed the wound, making sure it was clean before placing the bandages. He took away the ruined quilt and gave Matt a clean sheet. 

Karen pulled the tie out of Foggy’s hair.

“Ow—”

“Please, like that hurt.” 

She smiled and Foggy couldn’t help but smile back as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Be careful. I’m a delicate, squishy flower.” 

Humor really helped. It was Foggy’s best defense. He turned to see if Matt liked the banter, but was surprised to see his friend looking… very serious. He looked grim, his eyes trained on Foggy. It made Foggy’s smile drop—because pulling Matt out of a Roman-Catholic funk was always an uphill battle—

“I love you, Foggy.”

Foggy’s smile returned because he’d thought it had been something serious.

“Aw. I love you too, Matt.”

Foggy said it all the time. Best friends needed declarations of love all the time. But Matt didn’t smile and Foggy’s stomach clenched because this was something different—something Foggy didn’t think of. He wanted to look back to Karen, maybe she picked up on whatever he’d missed… but he didn’t want to take his eyes off Matt. 

“No, Foggy—I _love_ -love you.” 

Karen squeaked and Foggy coughed. He couldn’t look away; it was like a car crash. He felt numb. Because Foggy knew he’d been doing so well about the whole being in love with his best friend thing. Hell, he’d been carrying it around for years and years. He’d gotten it down to feeling like an old bruise, a feather-light ache but still present. 

Now it came back with a rushing agony, enough to make Foggy’s knees shake even though he was seated. He went through it all in a split second, making sure to smile, making sure to keep his voice steady. 

“What—what are you talking about?’

“You know what I’m talking about, Foggy.” Matt dragged his hand down his face. “I’m done… I’m done facing death every day and not… not being honest with myself.” He hiccupped, and it was like the spell was broken. Matt broke out into a toothy grin. “It’s a virtue. Like… a Beatles song.” 

“Oh my God you are so high.” Foggy’s laugh was a little hysteric as he finally looked at Karen. “Are you seeing this?” 

Karen nodded, her cheeks pink. 

“Yup. Totally seeing this moment, Foggy.”

“Good!” Matt struggled to sit up, Foggy hurrying to the cough to help him up so his dopey friend wouldn’t pull out his stitches. “We need a love witness because—I like it, and I fully intend to put a ring on it.”

“Holy—” Foggy felt like his face was on fire. “You quoted Beyoncé. Badly. And proposed while on painkillers—and to _me_ and not… anyone else. Jesus Christ, Matt.” 

Karen was laughing. Thank God the situation was funny. Foggy looked down at Matt to see his buddy’s head tilted back and his mouth open, a loud snore spilling from his lips. 

Yeah, just another Wednesday. 

::::

Foggy meant to tell Matt about that night. He figured telling Matt and making it into a joke would give it less power… that Foggy’s dumb crush (it’s not a crush, it’s so much more than that— _shut up_ —) would go back to being a faded bruise.

Weeks go by and Foggy still hadn’t said anything.

He told himself it was because of all their cases and they genuinely were swamped. But deep down Foggy knew it was because every time he thought about that night, ridiculous as it was, Foggy couldn’t breathe and his heart went wild.

Matt would see right through him.

Well… figuratively speaking. 

So, he said nothing. He passed Matt’s lo mein to him, the chopsticks next as he poured over their most recent client. A double murder where everyone is certain that the husband did it—everyone except Matt. Just another day at the office. 

“You know, not to be a whiner,” Foggy spoke through a mouthful of fried rice, “but it’s so not fair that you’re better at chopsticks than me.” 

Matt gave a soft huff of a laugh. Foggy smiled, delving into the files. As much as Karen branded Foggy as a chatterbox, he did appreciate a healthy silence, one that could be shared in comfort. Foggy could only have such a silence with two people, his mother… and Matt. 

Foggy tucked some stray hair behind his ear, stretching so that the bones in his neck popped—

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

Foggy glanced up, feeling fat and happy on Chinese food. 

“Uh, same old, same old. Staying late until you or Karen eventually wake me up before I drool too much on my desk.” Matt seemed tense, his knuckles white on his knees. Foggy narrowed his eyes. “Why?” 

Matt relaxed and aimed a charming smile that could level cities right at Foggy.

“Would you like to go out for dinner?”

“Sure. Usual Thai place on—”

“No.” Matt’s smile widened. “Some place nice. I’ll pick it.” Foggy was suddenly very much awake because Matt kept _smiling_ and he’d seen that look before. Countless times, at him, Karen, all sort of people, but its warmth was much more focused. “As a date, Foggy. I’d like this to be a date.”

Foggy’s heart hammered and that meant Matt could _hear_ his heart hammering. He swallowed. 

“Is… is this a joke?”

Matt’s smile lessened. 

“No.”

Foggy nodded, mostly for himself. He needed to compute the new information. He fought the urge to tug at his hair. 

“Is that ‘no’ the real joke—”

“No. Not a joke, Foggy.”

The past few years have really tested Foggy’s perception of the possible and impossible. Iron Man and the Avengers tested the world’s view. Magic— _aliens_ —super heroes? It was a big pill to swallow. Then there was the little things, things like law school and breaking family traditions, breaking his own views on sexuality—and what he thought would remain of his love life. Free-ish. 

Free to love anyone, but a part of him would always belong to Matt. Anything Matt needed, Foggy would be there. And then… and then Matt was the Devil in Hell’s Kitchen, and Foggy’s world shifted and rearranged again. 

He cried a lot.

Then he brushed up on first aid just in case. They brought in Karen because three heads were better than two, and they were a great team. Foggy wanted them to stay that way.

Foggy was happy. Things were great; he liked the balance they had achieved together. 

This… this was a big shift. 

“Foggy?”

Foggy flinched. Matt’s smile was gone and Foggy didn’t need bat ears to know Matt was scared. 

“Yeah—okay, yeah, let’s do it. Let’s shoot for eight, just let me know where to be.” 

Foggy could do this. He could play it cool. Matt’s smile was back and even if Foggy was making a huge mistake… even though Foggy was certain that Matt was just guilty, that the hurt, when it came, could be agonizing… Foggy couldn’t say no. 

Life was short.

So he smiled back.

::::

_Deep breaths, Foggy, you got this. Be Zen. Be chill, so chill they need to measure you in Kelvin._

Foggy swallowed. He was wearing one of his nice shirts; the dark green one that Marci said made him look handsome. Not that it mattered; Foggy could wear pajamas for all that Matt knew. He fiddled with his cufflinks and avoided looking at the mirror. 

The place Matt picked was _nice_. 

Not too nice, not the stuffy kind of nice where instead of eating it was more custom to judge other tables. 

There were three candles on the table and Matt was unfairly handsome. Foggy was short of breath when they embraced. He couldn’t help it, his heart stuttered and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Oh, Foggy had it so bad, and he’d been so careful. 

“So,” Matt smiled, easing back into his chair, “what you think? Is it all right?”

“The restaurant? It’s… it’s really nice. I’m glad I dressed up.”

“You dressed up?”

Matt’s smile was teasing. Foggy smirked.

“What, you couldn’t tell?”

“I could tell.”

Foggy didn’t bother fighting his plummet. He just let it happen as he smoothed down his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date… and he wasn’t sure he’d ever been on a date that mattered this _much. Keep breathing and be cool, Foggy. You got this._ He took a deep breath and smiled. 

“Did I ever tell you the first time I went on a date where there were candles on the table?” Matt shook his head and Foggy grinned. “Oh, you’re in for a treat. Get comfortable, this is a good one.” 

If there was one thing Foggy knew he could do, it was make Matt laugh. He used motions and _nailed_ his impression of the waiter’s crumbling indifference when the tablecloth caught fire. Foggy knew that he was probably being too loud because it wasn’t just their waitress who stopped by to check in on them, but it seemed all the staff did, even the chef. 

Foggy quieted down, his ears hot.

“I think… I’ve been too loud?”

Matt shook his head, his breaths still shallow from laughing.

“No, Foggy, they think you’re funny. They just want to hear more from you.”

Foggy preened a little. So he kept weaving together one embarrassing story after another, the high of Matt’s laughter. From a botched toga party to high school musicals using him as a makeup tester—he laid it all out—because if Matt was serious he needed to know just whom he was dealing with…

Foggy Nelson, goofball expert. 

“Oh my God, you’re hurting my stomach.”

Matt took off his glasses, his hazel eyes shimmering. 

“I like to think of myself as a loveable stomach virus.”

Matt doubled over, almost spilling his wine glass. Somewhere along the night their hands met, not quite entangling their fingers, but present. Touching—and Foggy couldn’t remember who initiated the contact. 

The waiters were starting to get careless about trying to be subtle in their eavesdropping. Foggy ran his fingers over Matt’s knuckles quickly before he lost his nerve. Matt’s lips parted and Foggy called out their waitress’s name, making her flinch from behind the column where she was hiding. 

“Hey, Grace, could we get the check please?” 

“Absolutely, Mr. Nelson.” She was cute, young, and her smile was infectious. “Did you gentlemen have a good night?”

“No. I’d say it was great.”

Matt’s timber made her flush before she hurried away. Foggy paid, which of course Matt protested with a bubbly, “You’re taking advantage of the blind!” Foggy said Matt could cover it next time. 

Foggy might have been able to trick himself into thinking it wasn’t a date, just a really nice dinner, if Matt hadn’t held his hand when they were a few blocks away from the restaurant. Something so small shouldn’t make Foggy’s throat tight, but it did. Matt kept running his fingers over Foggy’s palm like he wanted any coherent thought in Foggy’s mind to fly away like dust. 

He walked Matt home because Foggy was classy, and it was close (and that’s what you do after a date— _oh my God, he was just on a date with Matt Murdock—OH MY GO_ —). Matt leaned against his apartment door, finally letting Foggy’s hands go. 

“This was nice.”

It was _so_ nice. Foggy had great food, great company… and his skin began to prickle because holy _shit_ , Matt was leaning in. Matt was leaning in for a kiss and Foggy panicked—

Out of pure reflex, he gently pressed his hand against Matt’s lips. He saw Matt’s eyebrows shoot up and Foggy somehow forced himself to speak despite the distraction of those soft lips caressing his fingertips. 

“I don’t kiss on the first date.”

Matt relaxed, a laugh about to puff against Foggy’s hand—and before he could lose his nerve he moved his hand, his fingers catching on Matt’s lips. It startled a soft gasp out of him, and such a tiny noise shouldn’t make Foggy’s body throb. As Matt’s lips parted, dragging against Foggy’s index and middle finger, Foggy pressed a quick kiss against Matt’s cheek. 

Foggy pulled back and he saw Matt sway on his feet a bit as Foggy cleared his throat.

“Good night, Matt.”

Matt licked his lips and even in the dim, flickering light Foggy could tell that his cheeks were pink. 

“G-Goodnight.”

Foggy barely made it out of Matt’s apartment before he threw his hands up into the air. He did a victory dance because Foggy Nelson just got Matt Murdock to stammer _and_ blush. Foggy took a moment to fist pump. He didn’t care who saw. 

::::

While Foggy would usually maintain that staying at work late together is _not_ a suitable date, he’s getting a little desperate. He tells himself that the ends justify the means as he kisses Matt in his office, licking Matt’s lower lip when Matt murmurs, “I didn’t now this was a date,” to which Foggy wanted to say something smooth. Something like how he didn’t want to wait, that he’d break his own dumb rules for Matt.

Instead, in a slightly hoarse and slurred voice, Foggy replied with the elegant, “Wanted to kiss you.” 

Well, at least Foggy was honest. Matt’s hands were on Foggy’s cheeks like he’d been waiting, like he’d been as desperate as Foggy. Foggy bit on Matt’s lower lip and the whimper Matt made, a small intimate noise in the back of his throat made bubbles of champagne tickle Foggy’s skin. 

Foggy had gone into this thinking he’d keep it semi-chaste, but within moment he had Matt crowded up against his desk, standing between his legs as they sucked serious face. Matt’s fingers were in his hair and God—Matt was _hard_ , Foggy could feel him pressed against his thigh. Matt pulled back because even superheroes had to breathe. 

“Foggy—Foggy, Christ.”

Foggy needed to keep his lips on Matt, so he gave Matt’s bruised lips a break and pressed feather-light kisses down Matt’s neck. The thing was, Foggy knew the right thing to do was to take it gradually, like a normal person in a normal relationship. But he was with _Matt_ and the fucked up art was that Foggy wanted something to remember when it ended. He knew it wasn’t healthy, and he knew if he expressed his realism to Matt he would be absolutely furious. 

Foggy’s hands were steady when he undid Matt’s belt. He paused, pulling back to take in Matt’s mussed hair and red lips.

“Is this okay?” 

Matt took a deep breath, nodding so hard his glasses slid down his nose.

“Yes. Very much yes.” 

Foggy was on his knees so fast he was sure they were going to bruise, but he didn’t care because he was pulling Matt’s briefs down and taking his cock into his mouth. 

It wasn’t Foggy’s first time to this particular rodeo, but it had been a while. He ‘d forgotten the intimacy of it, and the fun that went into wringing out a partner’s reactions. Like most things sexual, it was fun, a mixture of endorphins and adrenalin that proved to be a fun release.

Still… it was more than that. 

Foggy hadn’t been lying to Matt when he said that what they had was much more than any civil union or marriage. While most roommates moved on and got sick of each other after a few months, they never did. While most would run out of conversations, Matt and Foggy never did.

Because what they had was special, even if Foggy only ever said it that one time, after a few drinks and a doodle-ridden napkin. The world was filled with endless ways to love another, and Foggy would have no problem admitting that he loved Matt in all of them. 

Matt’s fingers tightened in Foggy’s hair, bringing him back to the present. Waxing poetic would wait, he had some serious head to give. 

Matt’s begging sounded so sweet, his fingers gingerly running down Foggy’s face after he was finished, catching on Foggy’s lips. Foggy’s knees were starting to ache and his jaw was a little sore… and he couldn’t have been happier. 

::::

“You’re an idiot.” Karen rolled her eyes as she lugged the last box of Matt’s clothes over to Foggy’s place. She flopped down on the couch. Matt was out being a hero for another few hours at least. “I mean, there’s being realistic and there’s being stupid, Foggy.” 

Foggy got them two beers. Karen took one, which lessened her glare. 

“Geez, sorry for sharing. I thought that’s what friends do.”

She kicked at him when he sat down before resting her feet in his lap. 

“Friends also can tell you when you’re being dumb. This is one of those times.” 

Maybe Foggy should have held off on telling Karen the whole, “sometimes I think Matt’s going to leave me, but I’m fine with it because it’s inevitable. Obviously.” Karen swallowed the German beer Foggy made sure to keep because it was her favorite. 

“The way he looks at you, or just… _looks_ when you’re in a room, he _loves_ you. Since I first met you both I saw it. I was surprised it took you this long.” 

Next Wednesday Matt was at Foggy’s place ( _their_ place now) with Karen tying Foggy’s hair back as he stitched a wound on Matt’s chest shut. Foggy kissed Matt’s knuckles. 

“Sorry I don’t have any painkillers.”

“It’s fine.” Matt ducked down for a kiss. Foggy smiled before he finished up his work, only standing once it was covered in gauze. He washed his hands, and was just about to get Matt’s post-crime-fighting blanket when Matt cleared his throat. 

“Hey, Foggy?”

“’Sup?”

Foggy saw Matt turn on the couch so he was looking Foggy’s general direction.

“I love you.”

Foggy replied easily.

“I love you too.”

Matt fiddled with something in his pocket and Foggy was about to tell him to quit it because he was going to rip out his stitches—but that was when Matt pulled out a tiny black velvet box and Foggy froze. Matt’s smile widened and he opened it with one hand. 

Not Foggy’s standard Wednesday night… but he didn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I watched Daredevil, and now I'm here. I hope you guys like it, since it's my first time writing for the fandom I'm sure it's a little shaky, but I can only improve :) All thoughts welcome!


End file.
